• Leslie Crews

How Rhythmically Challenged People Gave Me Hope

Watching rhythmically challenged people dance is one of the greatest joys of my life. Knees wobbling, joyful wiggling, and passionate head bopping are my top faves, hands down. Before you judge prematurely, know that I am no Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliott. But much like these fine individuals, I don’t care if I look funny on the dance floor. But I dance on beat. Most of the time.

Who knew an invitation to a company party would bring peace and clarity to my anxious and exhausted brain.

Music unites what the man tries to divide.

As ridiculous as their dance moves looked, I admired them. Behind the drunken rendition of a river-dance, was a person that decided to let go and allow themselves to dance in public, shamelessly; the version of you that only the paint on your bedroom walls have seen.

I’ve danced in groups of enthusiastic strangers before, but this experience felt different.

The world continues to uncover just how cruel people can be to one another. Yet, any passerby would know instantly that they genuinely enjoyed being in each other’s company. Their warmth engulfed the banquet room, and for that moment, I felt safe in a public space.

Sounds of laughter and applause poured from a group of people, thoroughly invested in the moment, together.

I watched, as familiar old-school music and trap music brought people together. They danced to the same song, though a different beat. It made me proud to be alive to witness pure joy being shared by people that likely would have never met if work hadn’t brought them together.

Their ancestral roots spanned the continents. Their ages and native languages varied. But these people of differing beliefs, genders, skin tones, and ages were all on one dance floor, together.